Page 62 of His Christmas Wife

Each time he touched her, she became so, so aroused.

For minutes, much longer than it should have taken, he smoothed on the cream, massaging it deeply into her buttocks. She turned herself over to him, savoring the moment.

“That’ll do.”

Then, leaving her unfulfilled, he told her she could stand back up.Frustrating Dominant.

Rattled by the arousal gnawing at her, she followed him back into the bedroom and dressed in her clothes he’d draped over the back of a chair.

This time, he opted for trousers and a black, long-sleeved shirt. The color made his eyes even more startling, and the form-fitting fabric showed the outline of his muscles, reminding her of his power.

Finally ready, she followed him back downstairs where he retrieved the leftovers from the fridge and helped her into her jacket.

Though she knew going home was the best thing, she hated to leave.

“Hello, Jolly,” he said to the chief of staff.

“Decided you finally need something, Frosty?”

At the computer’s outrageous attitude, Kaylee shook her head.

“I’ll be driving the car. Have it waiting.”

A thick silence draped the atmosphere, almost as if the computer were sulking.

Kaylee shrugged. “I think Jolly wants you to tell her thank you.”

His mouth opened and closed comically as if the mere suggestion was absurd. After a deep sigh, he shook his head. “No chance.”

Pointedly she glanced from the speakers then back at Frost.

“I’m fucking calling Bonds tomorrow.”

“But we need the car today, right?” Seeing him so confounded was pure joy.

“Jesus.”Closing his eyes, he relented. “Thank you…Jolly.”

“My pleasure, dreamboat. Anything for you.”

They rode the elevator to the garage where a sleek silver Bonds sedan was awaiting their arrival.

“Impressive technology.” Her boss lived life in a way she couldn’t conceive of or ever afford.

He assisted her into the sumptuous compartment. The leather seats hugged her body as if custom-made for her, then automatically adjusted to provide comfort and support to her lumbar area.

“Tell Jolly what temperature you’d like your seat set to.”

“If she’ll pay attention.”

“Try it.” He shrugged. “She likes you.”

“Jolly, will you please set my seat to seventy-four degrees?”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to make you comfortable, Ms. Robbins.”

Instantly warmth surrounded her. “Thank you.” She glanced at Frost as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the quiet street. “This is deluxe.” On really cold days—or hot summer ones for that matter—her cantankerous car didn’t even want to start.

“Jolly, will you play jazz Christmas music?” he asked.

---